An Offer She Couldn't Resist
by LawyerGirl1
Summary: After four years on the campaign trail, the stars has fallen from Rory's eyes and the roses have faded from the cheeks. An unexpected job offer may be just what she needs, although moving back to Stars Hollow may open up old scars. Please R&R!
1. The Stars Are Gone And So Am I

**1. The Stars Are Gone And So Am I**

"Hi, my name is Rory Gilmore. I have an appointment with Professor Tarkington at ten."

"Name here, sign there, initials at the bottom," the Professor McGonagall-lookalike told her, passing a clipboard over the desk. "Sit over there."

Rory nodded curtly and grabbed her briefcase. As she walked to the designated armchair, she caught her reflection in one of the glass office walls. The chestnut-haired beauty in the stylish suit, wearing heels that were both fashionable and functional, bore little resemblance to the beaming, fresh-faced graduate on her mother's mantelpiece. Four years on the campaign trail had made Rory lose weight and gain confidence, stopped her smiling at everyone like a Girl Scout and sharpened the tools of her craft. Rory was poised, elegant, self-assured and as bullish as the next investigative journalist. Her superiors lauded her as the next Woodward, her contemporaries feared her insightful and creative touch. Rory was going places. Except that she no longer wanted to go those places. Except that she was bored, frustrated and more than a little disillusioned by the inner workings of the American political system.

As she sat down, ankles crossed demurely with the rasp of silk stockings, her mind flashed to her days on the campaign trail.

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_Rory muttered every profanity she knew, and a few she invented, as she walked from the bathroom. The water had, predictably, been tepid and unable to relax the permanently tight muscles in her shoulders and neck. And, despite the copious amount of lathering, rinsing and repeating she had done, the light green linoleum in the bathroom reminded her so much of fungus that she still didn't feel clean. She sighed as she began rummaging through her bag, looking for something that bore a resemblance to clean clothes. The search was prevented by the insistent ringing of her phone on the bedside table._

"_Rory speaking."_

"_And, my oh my, how cheerful she sounds. Bad day trailing politicians, babe?" her mother asked, almost annoyingly chipper herself. "I saw your article in the New York Times on Nora Huffington, by the way. Great scoop, Gilmore!" _

"_Thanks," Rory mumbled, pulling on faded sweatpants and a blue T-shirt. Her mother meant well. And, truth be told, Rory would also have viewed her most recent expose as a victory five short years ago. She had diligently followed a paper trial which revealed that Nora Huffington, the thirty-year old secretary to one of the most influential senators, has faked all of her qualifications and was no better at her job than Kirk would've been. Worse, in fact. But Rory was forced to withhold all the further proof that clearly indicated that Nora got her job by sleeping with the married senator, an activity she had been engaging in regularly since her senior year of high school, and that Nora's own marriage to the senator's son had no dampening effect on their illicit trysts. Rory's editor had balked at printing the sexual scandal, partly because the senator was ferociously litigious and capable of burying the paper in legal fees and party because the senator was a woman who would've turned the entire scandal into a particularly vicious crusade for equal treatment. When Rory had pointed out that equal treatment would entail running the story as they would've with any married male senator who slept with his secretary, her editor told her to revise the article or it would not be printed at all. A heavily censured version of the article she submitted appeared in the inner pages of the New York Times, where it was unlikely to draw much attention. _

"_You okay, kid?" Lorelai asked, concerned. _

"_I'm fine," Rory sighed, sitting down on the cheap mattress to untangle her hair. "I'm just tired of living in cheap motels, I think. So how is Luke?" _

_Rory tried her best to engage with the rest of the conversation and by the time Lorelai said goodbye, she had her mother convinced that her mood was nothing more than cheap motels and cold showers. But Rory couldn't convince herself. The irregular hours, the constant sleep deprivation from sharing small rooms with strange journalists and the insistent pain in her back from cheap seats and bumpy bus rides had eaten away at her over the past few months. The idea of living on fast food in busy cities sounded utopian at first, until her body began to rebel against all things salted and synthetic. Travel sounded exciting, until Rory realised she travelled from terminal to conference room to motel to airport without any opportunity to indulge her inner tourist. Politics sounded meaningful, until Rory saw first hand how much the government relied on an intricate system of front page insults and back room agreements. Journalism sounded important, until Rory experienced how her stories got censored and her exposes dampened down for the sake of political expediency. While it all had the saving grace of novelty and experience at first, Rory was beginning to think that travel should not be boring, coffee should not resemble lighter fluid and politics should not be corrupt. Most importantly, the truth about politicians should not be distorted simply to stave off lawsuits. _

"_You should be able to call a spade a spade," Rory told her reflection as she applied night cream. The endless assault of flickering florescent lighting had left her skin dry and, with her eyes rimmed red from sleep deprivation, she was beginning to bear an unwanted resemblance to one of the characters from Interview with a Vampire. "You should be able to call a politician a thief if he steals government funds, a slutty weasel if he screws his son's wife, a criminal if he ignores the law." _

_Her cell phone began to ring again. Rory groaned, thinking that it was Sam again. Could a boy not get a hint? But her work ethic kicked in and, fearing to loose a lead, she answered reluctantly. When she heard the caller's voice, tinny and distant, she bolted upright and thanked her guardian angels for compelling her to take the call._

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"Miss Gilmore?"

Rory looked up and saw the kindly gentleman in the tweed suit beckoning her. For no reason other than instinct, an instinct honed by years of meeting new people and making almost no new friends, she liked the man. "Nice to meet you, Professor Tarkington," she said, meaning it.

"Let us go to my office," the professor said.

As Rory followed him into his office, a richly decorated space filled and crammed and stuffed with books, she felt another jolt of joy that she answered that call.


	2. We Need To Talk

**2 – We Need To Talk**

The Dragonfly Inn, nestled amongst stately trees and sprinkled with a spattering of snow, seemed like a Christmas picture card. Somebody, probably not Michel, had looped holly and ivy around the porch railings and the smell of Sookie's chocolate raspberry pralines perfumed the air. The Dragonfly was welcoming and homey and Rory had never been so reluctant to go inside. "Buck up, Gilmore," she admonished herself. "If you could've told Senator Dealy that you are not going to erase the picture of him doing something borderline disgusting with a breakfast cereal, you can tell Lorelai your news."

She walked inside the Inn determinedly.

"Excuse me, miss, you bear an uncanny resemblance to my favourite daughter," Lorelai greeted her, jumping out from behind the checkout desk to pull her into a tight hug. "I missed you! Luke doesn't support my ongoing fetish for the cast of Glee."

"Neither do I," Rory pointed out.

"Yeah, but I have years of residual mother power over you that I can wield at will. I don't have that advantage with Luke." Lorelai studied her daughter carefully, noticing for the first time how tired and thin Rory looked. "You doing okay, sweets?"

"Nothing a good night's rest in my own bed and a plate of something organic won't cure," Rory assured her as they walked to the Inn's dining room. "Who knew that Luke's habit of force feeding me grapefruit and spinach once a week actually kept me healthy?"

Lorelai winced sympathetically. "Bad food on the campaign trail?"

"More like Willie Wonka meets Grapes of Wrath. What there was, was synthetic, filled with additives and covered in purple dye," Rory said. "It actually got to the point where my body rejected everything that was came out of a cardboard box or could be prepared by adding boiling water. Which meant my pickings got so slim that an apple and two Altoids started feeling like a nutritious meal. I'm going to thank Luke for all those years of forcefed vegetables when I see him."

"If you do, I am grounding you," Lorelai warned. "He just got it into his head that bananas should only be eaten when accompanied with copious amounts of whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Although I had some help from your favourite four year old in that regard. Hey, you have been drafted for babysitting during the rest of the weekend, by the way."

"Duly noted," Rory said. As they ordered lunch and ate their fill of organic somethings, Lorelai detailed all the recent town developments to Rory. When the waiter brought their coffee and cinnamon hazelnut cookies, Rory scraped together all her nerves. "Mom, I have news."

"Is it I'm-running-off-to-join-a-Californian-cult-news or more like I'm-buying-a-new-car-news?" Lorelai asked.

Rory considered. "Somewhere between cults and new cars."

"All ears. Just call me Donkey."

"Well, Donkey, you may have realised that the time I spent on the campaign trial, while instructive, was not exactly everything I wanted it to be. The censorship, the cheap motels, the coffee … all crappy to the point where it became unbearable. And I think I've mastered the art of writing the perfect lead by now."

"You've mastered that while you were at Chilton," Lorelai opined.

"Thanks. The point is that I think it is time for a change. And, just as I started thinking that I've had enough of the nomadic lifestyle, I got an opportunity to interview as a researcher and analyst for a think tank based in Washington." Rory drew a deep breath. "I went for the interview a week ago and Professor Tarkington, who'll be my immediate superior, called me this morning to say that the job is mine if I want it."

"Wow." Lorelai stared at her coffee cup. "Washington, huh?"

"Well, they have an office in Hartford to keep an eye on developments in this side of the country," Rory said. "I could ask that I'll be based in Hartford rather than Washington, which means that we can resume our weekend movie nights without too much of a commute."

"And Luke won't have to franchise his diner in the Capitol," Lorelai mused. "What kind of a think tank is it?"

"It's called the Institute for Socio-Political Democracy and Governance."

"So, what kind of a think tank is it?"

"They mainly focus on how socio-political factors contribute to the rise or decline of a democracy and what impact good citizenship has on the political stability of the country." Rory warmed to her topic as she spoke. "While it does emphasise the American government, I'm also required to write regular reports and updates on international developments that can affect the administration. And that ranges from the Eurozone crises to the aftermath of natural disasters in South America to the human rights abuses perpetrated by multinational corporations in Africa. There's also the alluring promise of travel that won't involve daylong rides on busses that smell like feet and the fact that I'll have a permanent address again for the first time in four years. I'll be able to actually buy books that I want instead of mailing them to you and incurring shipping charges costing as much, if not more, as the book itself."

Lorelai nodded slowly, digesting her daughter's enthusiasm and spark.

"So, any thoughts on if I should take the job or not?"

Lorelai sipped her coffee to buy herself some more time. "I think the American publishing industry wants you to take the job, while the hotel industry may have some qualms."

"Mom. Be serious."

"Well, you seem seriously interested in taking the job. If you want to do that, then you should," Lorelai sat down her cup carefully. "I'm just … you were so excited about the job on the campaign trail and about journalism in general since you first figured out what a foreign correspondent is, babe. I hate to see you burned out like this and I also don't want you to base an important decision on a temporary emotion."

"Most of my articles are published on a freelance basis," Rory pointed out. "I could still write freelance pieces on the side. In fact, Professor Tarkington said that the Institute encourages it. And, since it would be opinion pieces, it wouldn't be subject to the same stringent censorship that everything else I've written has been. I look forward to getting my original, unedited point of view across in print."

"Well," Lorelai said, trying to project a convincing amount of enthusiasm into her voice, "if you are happy, then I am happy. Hey, how did the professor get to hear about you anyway? Read your inside scoop on Senator Smith and the transvestite office aide?"

"Ah, no."

"Picked up your trail on the corruption at the Pixkletown courthouse?"

"No."

"Followed your searing serial indictment of Congressman Picklesby and the tapdancing incident?" When Rory shook her head mutely, Lorelai frowned. "This man read any of your stories?"

"His scrapbook of my articles isn't quite as extensive as my mother's," Rory smiled. "Actually, I got the recommendation from a contributor to the Institute."

"Who?" Lorelai asked curiously. Rory mumbled a name and flinched in anticipation of the explosion. "Rory, no. No. Are you serious?"

Rory nodded.

"I've reconsidered. You can't take the job."

"Why? Because of …"

"Yes! Rory, every time you become entangled with that boy, your life takes a turn for the worse. He didn't treat you as well as you deserve and I don't think you should base an important decision like this on his recommendation." Lorelai got up from the table angrily, not wanting the Inn's diners to remember their meal because of their argument. Rory followed her into the quiet lobby. "Mom, I …"

"Rory," Lorelai interrupted her, "you are old enough and mature enough to make that decision on your own. But, as your mother, I have the right to be concerned whenever that boy is involved with any of those decisions."

"I'm sure he's changed," Rory placated her. "And I'm sure that his involvement with the institute ends with his hefty monthly donations."

"I hope so," Lorelai muttered, flipping through the Inn's mail. "I really hope so."

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_A/N: Hate it? Love it? Leave me a review and tell me what you think! (Thanks for all the positive feedback so far!)_


	3. All Of My Memories Keep You Near

**3 – All Of My Memories Keep You Near**

"Everything to your liking, miss Gilmore?"

"After years of writing on a laptop perched on my luggage while waiting for the next bus, having a desk seems positively decadent," Rory smiled at the kindly professor, "let alone having my own office with five bookcases and three windows. I feel very Rockefeller."

"Ah, now, the windows open. That should make you feel very Warren Buffett," Professor Tarkington replied. He glanced around Rory's office, which was littered with stacks of research guides, government reports, dictionaries and other books. Rory had decided to unpack the volumes from the bookcases to give the shelves a good dusting and to integrate her own collection, paltry in comparison. "Although I myself have always preferred the offices in Washington. More suited for our task, you know."

"No, this place has character," Rory protested. The Washington offices were magnificent constructions of glass, steel and chrome; it gave a cutting edge to the research facility and was listed in a Post feature on modern offices. Yet, to Rory, it resembled a Stargate-inspired version of Hogwarts. Cold, clinical, with a confusing array of silver buttons in the bathroom and corridors lined with people wearing black carrying books. In contrast, the Hartford offices had been converted from a colonial fur trader's family house. While the plumbing had been improved, the walls repainted and the original glass replaced, it still retained the hardwood floors and bay windows that originally gave the building a majestic air. The heavy mahogany furniture in her office made Rory feel like a character from a Dickens novel, despite the array of electronic equipment displayed on the desk. And she knew she would wile away many a productive hour in front of her windows, which offered a beautiful view of Bushnell Park.

"Well, miss Gilmore, remember that feeling when the exterminators ruin your favourite set of dictionaries in a quest for termintes," Professor Tarkington said. "Now, have you managed to relocate and settle in? House prices in Hartford can be quite exorbitant. Nothing like the Vineyard or at the Cape, of course."

"I have family living in Stars Hollow who will put me up for a while," Rory replied. "I won't be able to afford anything in Hartford without a roommate and I've had enough of roommates during college and on the campaign trail."

Professor Tarkington nodded his grey head. "I can believe that. I have never harboured any desire to share my bathroom and toothbrush with a relative stranger either."

"I hope my roommates never used my toothbrush," Rory shuddered.

"Now, Miss Gilmore, we have a function on Saturday night. Partly Christmas party, partly a fundraising event. It would be wonderful if you could attend; it will give you the opportunity of meeting most of our regular donors."

Rory recognised the tone. It was the same tone Emily used when inviting her to social gatherings, especially those that would feature prominent members of the DAR. While it may be sugarcoated as an invitation, it was a request she could not refuse. "Sure. It'll be good to practice my handshake again."

"Hmmm," Professor Tarkington murmured. "You do that. I will e-mail you the details. And do take tomorrow off to rest. I want you radiant on Saturday."

Rory brightened. She had planned to finish arranging her office furniture the next day and leave straight from work to go to her grandparents' Christmas party. She had not relished the idea of attending one of Emily's soirees without showering; somebody was sure to make an acid remark about it being clear why the young Huntzberger cut his losses. Not in her vicinity, of course, but close enough for her to overhear. Professor Tarkington's suggestion would give her the opportunity to sleep late, have a leisurely brunch at Luke's and spend the rest of the day pampering herself in preparation. "Thanks, boss!"

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"Oh, daughter of mine, have I ever told you how beautiful you look?" a frazzled Lorelai told her as Rory walked into the Inn. "How your intelligence just radiates from your perfectly formed eyes? And how painful it was to birth you?"

"What do you need?" Rory grinned.

"Well, Sookie is having a kitchen crises involving caramelised blueberries which means our dining room is starting to resemble the Boston tea party. The Rosenblatts have gone off to some romantic dinner, leaving their children in Michel's loving care, and since they are now three hundred million hours late, Michel is starting to resemble Charles Manson. I am late for the town meeting in which Taylor promised to raise the issue of the pigeons," Lorelai began.

"So you need me to man the desk for you while you go to the town meeting?"

"No, I need you to babysit Lily while I go to the town meeting. No event revolving around me and Taylor and pigeons is safe for the ears of a four year old. Not even that four year old."

Rory frowned. "Why is Lily at the Inn in the first place?"

"Because nobody else could take her," Lorelai said.

"Where's …"

"Her dad has his own business to run, kid, sometimes it can get a little busy." Lorelai gestured to the sounds of Michel howling agonised French curses from the living room which coincided with a clatter of crystalwear from the dining room. "As you can tell. Look, she's just having supper in the kitchen. If you really can't, just take her to Liz."

"I wouldn't do that to the poor kid," Rory said, taking off her gloves and hanging her coat on the hook. "Go. Yell at Taylor for me."

"You are my favourite daughter," Lorelai replied, kissing her cheek and pulling on Rory's gloves as she left the Inn.

Rory threaded her way carefully through the dining room into the kitchen. A girl, little in every sense of the word, was eating at the kitchen table, studying a picture book with intense concentration. She seemed unpertubed by the noise and the bustle around her and Rory smiled.

_So like her father. Not that anybody could doubt it, not with those thick black curls and the gorgeous smile, but just look at her read. Every inch her dad._

"Hey, you."

Lily looked up from her book solemnly. "Hi, Rory. Have you read any Otto books?"

"He's the best," Rory nodded. "I like his friend Helen the most."

"That's our Ivy League graduate talking about Eric Hall," Sookie said as she brushed past Rory with a turkey baster. "You taking Lily with you?"

Rory grinned as Michel's bellowing voice became distinctly louder and suspiciously close to English. "I think I had better do that. Wouldn't want Taylor to shut down the Inn for posing a moral danger to preschoolers."

"Hey, at least that'll get Michel out of our hair for a while," Sookie pointed out, grabbing her fig-and-bacon-stuffed potatoes from the oven. "Fred! Get these to table four before their heads explode!"

"Lily, I think it's best if we leave now."

Lily nodded and quietly put her book in her bag. She held onto Rory's hand as they walked out of the kitchen's back door. "Are we going to Daddy's house now?"

"Well …"

"I think that might be for the best," Lily's dad said, getting out of the car he had just parked in the Inn's lot. Lily ran to him and he caught her in his arms, lifting her up in a hug while she clasped her arms around his neck. "Hey, Lily. You miss me?" Lily nodded emphatically and he kissed her cheek. "Good. Hi, Rory."

"Hi, Jess."

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_A/N: Hug me with your reviews, please! And thank you for all the positive feedback._


	4. Happy Families, Etc

**4 – Happy Families, Etc.**

"Have I mentioned how ridiculous it is to have a Christmas party weeks before Christmas?" Luke grumbled, fidgeting with his tie and scowling at his reflection in the mirror that hung over the telephone.

"Repeatedly," Lorelai said as she ran barefoot down the stairs and into the living room. "But I like seeing you in your suit and I'll take every chance I get to dress up my sausage."

"So buy the flavoured condoms," Jess grunted, carefully packing away Lily's crayons. Rory swatted his arm, laughing. "Not in front of the kids."

"Or in front of me," Luke groaned, studying Lorelai. "New dress?"

Lorelai swirled, letting the blush-coloured silk swirl around her legs. "You like?"

Luke kissed her in response, the smouldering type of kiss that usually preludes a memorable evening.

"Hey, not in front of the kids," Jess and Rory said in unison.

Lorelai broke the kiss. "Come help me find the right shoes for this dress," she said, reaching for Luke's hand.

"We'll be coming up there if you are not done in ten minutes!" Rory called as they disappeared up the stairs.

"With a garden hose!" Jess added, pausing to check if their loud voices had woken Lily. She was curled into the armchair, holding onto her stuffed dog. Rory watched him, wonderingly, still not used to this fatherly facet of Jess.

_Just look how concerned he is about her. If it wasn't Jess, it would be endearing._

Jess glanced at her. From the skew smile on his face, it was clear that he knew almost exactly what she was thinking. "You ever think it would be like this?"

"What exactly in this scene of Happy Families is bugging you? Luke helping Mom pick shoes, you checking up on your child or you and me able to have a civil conversation like actual grown-ups?" Rory deflected with a smile.

Jess grinned deviously. "You don't actually think he's helping her with her shoes, do you?"

"Oh, don't be gross," Rory grimaced. "I mean, any more than you can help."

"Ouch," Jess winced. "I must say, the investigative journalism business has knocked away all your dignity and sense of decorum if you think that's part of a civil conversation."

"Says the one who brought up the flavoured condoms," Rory shot back.

"Look," Jess said, suddenly serious. "I know this situation was manageable when you were on the road and you didn't need to be confronted with me or Lily on a daily basis. She loves Luke and Lorelai and it's great that there's someone reliable to take care of Lily when I can't. She loves you, too, and it's always been great that you've been able to look after her when you're home for a weekend or so. But ... if you're back at the house for any sort of extended period, this might get ... I think 'awkward' is the word I'm looking for and I don't want you to feel like a stranger in your own house. You have any questions, you ask."

Rory blinked, feeling flabbergasted. "Wow, quite a speech for someone who used to communicate strictly in grunts."

"Some words don't translate into grunts that well."

She had been in contact with Lorelai enough to know the basics of what was a horrible, everyday story – that a group of drunk high school seniors had smashed into the car carrying Lily's hitherto unnamed mother home from the hospital; that the paramedics had been unable to save her, but that the baby had survived, cushioned from the blow by her mother's arms. Rory didn't know if Jess was in the car, if he was overwhelmed with grief, if he even knew about the pregnancy until the paramedics contacted him as the next-of-kin. All she knew that Jess, barely a grown up himself, had been confronted with the needs of a newborn, turned from a father to a single parent with one brake failure.

"_Don't tell me the Inn is on fire," Lorelai mumbled into the phone, husky from the sleep she had been woken up from. "I don't ever want another late-night call like that."_

"_Lorelai?"_

_The unexpected voice had Lorelai bolt upright, the strange voice jolting her more powerfully than any cup of coffee. "Jess?"_

"_Lorelai, she won't stop crying. I don't know what to do, but she won't stop crying."_

"_Who is she?" Lorelai asked, wondering if it was the residues of sleep that made her imagine the unmistakable wail of a baby. _

"_My daughter, damn it, my daughter! I've fed her and I've changed her and she's not running a fever, but she won't stop crying and you're the only person I know that has managed to raise a newborn on your own without dropping her on her head." Jess sounded like he was on the verge of tears himself._

"_Jess ..."_

"_I'm sorry, I know there's a lot of bad feelings between us and I don't expect you to go Desmond Tutu on me now, but I have no one else I can ask. Please, Lorelai. Please."_

_Lorelai threw the covers away from her and got up, her body moving with little input from her brain. "What about Liz?"_

"_You mean the woman who left me alone at a bar for three days when I was seven?" _

"_Okay, where are you now?" Lorelai asked. _

"_Home."_

"_Which is where?"_

"_Lorelai, please, just tell me what I can do ..."_

"_Jess, childcare is not a long-distance sport. There's a limit to what I can do for you over the phone. Tell me where you are and I'll come help you."_

Rory hadn't been surprised by her mother's actions. Jess may not hold a special place in Lorelai's heart and probably never would. But no one who had been faced with the seemingly insurmountable challenge of raising a baby as a single parent would be immune to a late-night cry for help. Lorelai had convinced Jess to move back to Stars Hollow, overriding his objection against involving Liz in his child's life by pointing out that (a) Luke, April and herself would outweigh Liz's influence and (b) Doula had not been left alone, not even in the toy store, since she was born.

_And so he bought a house in Stars Hollow and established a Hartford branch of Truncheon near Bushnell Park. I should be jealous of this little girl, that she could convince him to move back to Stars Hollow when I couldn't._

"Well," Rory said, for the lack of saying something else.

"And if it's weird for you to have me around here ..." Jess tugged at his hair. "I can leave Lily with Liz more."

"Don't be silly," Rory quickly said. "I don't want to drive Lily out of the house."

Jess nodded, looking relieved. Rory wondered how worried he had been about her long-term exposure to his daughter ... and wondered why he was so worried. "Hey, Jess ..."

Jess looked at her, his dark eyes as inscrutable as always.

"I was just wondering ..."

"Anything you want to, ask."

"Why did you name her Lily?" Rory blurted out, settling for a safe question instead of the one she most wanted to ask.

Jess smiled a little, looking down at his sleeping daughter. "Lilies were her mother's favourite flowers."

"Why did you move to Stars Hollow? Why not get an apartment close to your bookshop?"

"Firstly, because Stars Hollow provides a nearly infinite supply of cheap babysitters," Jess grinned, without the serious light fading from his eyes. "Secondly, because all this fresh air and community feeling is a great environment for a kid to grow up in. Not so good for a teenager, but great for keeping a little girl safe. Safer than in cities where kids disappear from their own houses. And, thirdly, because I am scared to death of screwing this up and there's no chance of that happening while Taylor, Babette, Miss Patty and your mother is watching."

"And ..." The question died on Rory's tongue as Luke and Lorelai came down the stairs. "Now that we have finally resolved the Shoe Issue, it is time to resolve the question of how to sneak a lifetime supply of divine apple tartlets from my mother's house without her noticing. I usually support the squirreling-away-items-in-the-underwear-approach, but that just seems unhygienic when food is involved," Lorelai said chirpily. "Rory, you ready to go?"

Rory nodded, her eyes not leaving Jess' face.

"Bring Lily to the diner for breakfast tomorrow," Luke told Jess, clasping his hand briefly. "I'm making cherry pancakes."

"Will do," Jess said, scooping the sleeping girl into his arms. "Thank you for taking care of her today, Rory."

"No thanks necessary, Jess," Rory smiled.

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"Congratulations on your newest job description, Rory," Richard said, beaming affably at Rory as he handed her a martini. "I am not quite used to the idea of passing you an alcoholic beverage, but I am told that it is almost impossible to work with Professor Tarkington sober."

"Oh, Richard," Emily protested.

"I like him," Rory replied, drinking her martini. "He reminds me a little of you, actually."

"Well, now, that just cuts me to the quick." Rory and Richard smiled warmly at each other. "I believe I have a first edition of Conan Doyle in the study. Any interest?"

"Plenty," Rory said, following Richard into the study.

"She is so much like Richard," Emily mused, watching them leave with soft eyes. "Lorelai, I heard the most scandalous news today."

"Tweeny Halpburn pulling a Desperate Housewives with her gardener?" Lorelai asked.

Emily frowned. "No."

"Judy Green from the Rare Flowers Society emulating Lady Godiva at the botanical gardens?"

"Lorelai, please."

"Nora Huffington caught in her husband's underwear in her media room slash dungeon?"

Emily wagged a reprimanding finger at Lorelai. "One more word from you and I am never serving those apple tartlets again."

"So what most scandalous news did you hear today, Mother?" Lorelai asked meekly. Luke suppressed a guffaw of laughter.

"Well," Emily said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I heard that Rory got her job because of a good word spoken by Logan Huntzberger."

Luke choked on his scotch.

"What does that mean, Lorelai?"

"I'm assuming it means that Logan told the Institute that Rory is a great writer and a terrific researcher who will be perfect for the position," Lorelai replied calmly, whacking Luke on the back. "And that is all that we will be assuming, Mother."

"But he would've married her if she said yes, Lorelai! Public validation from a Huntzberger, especially one who picked out a diamond ring for you, is a very serious statement."

"One more assumption from you and Sookie is serving meatballs at your next DAR function," Lorelai warned.

"But ..."

"Meatballs with beer!"

"Lorelai ..."

"Meatballs with beer and cheese from a can!"

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"Although I firmly believe that the last collection of Sherlock Holmes stories he wrote proves definitively that an author should not pander to public demand if he feels no inclination to write," Rory argued. She and Richard were comfortably ensconced in the study, escaping from the inane Christmas chatter and string quartet carols in the manor, and discussing their favourite books. It was, to Rory's mind, one of the best ways to enjoy a party at the Gilmores'.

"Hmmm." Richard cleared his throat, a little sound of uncertainty that made the hair in the back of Rory's neck tingle. "Your grandmother is ... concerned over the young Huntzberger's intentions, Rory."

"He helped me get a job I'll be really good at, Grandpa," Rory pointed out. "That's not quite going down on one knee and declaring his undying love for me."

"Although he has done so in the past. That type of commitment from a Huntzberger does not simply pass on like a ship in the night."

Rory desperately wished for another martini. "Grandpa ..."

"I do not relish the idea of my family joining with Mitchum Huntzberger's," Richard said, his jaw tightening at the mention of the man whose family belittled and humiliated his beloved granddaughter. "Nor am I particularly fond of his son. But I want for you to be happy, Rory. And if you believe that the young Huntzberger will make you happy, you have my blessings. And your grandmother's."

"I haven't seen Logan since I turned down his marriage proposal," Rory sighed, twisting her fingers together. "I might see him tomorrow at an office function and I am not looking forward to it."

"Nonsense," Richard said bracingly. "You're a Gilmore. You can take him on."

"Thanks," Rory smiled. "I just ... it's just that ... And ..."

Richard nodded as though the incoherent string of words made sense. "I understand. As long as you understand that, no matter what you decide with regards to young Huntzberger, I am here to punch him or congratulate him. Whatever may be required."

Rory felt a swell of love for the man who has always been her favourite father figure. "I know, Grandpa."

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_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! Please steer that pointer over to the yellow button and leave me your thoughts on this chapter! Come on, two chapters in one day has got to be worth some love!_


	5. Different Words For The Same Thing

**5 – Different Words For The Same Thing**

"You have to tell her she can't take the job."

Since Emily had mentioned the L-word during the cocktails, Lorelai had known that Luke was bursting to tell her how much Rory could not take the job. She was surprised that he restrained himself until they had left the house and was walking to his trusty green truck. "She already has."

"Lorelai ...," Luke began, his voice brusque with anger.

She pre-empted his speech by kissing his cheek softly. "She wants the job, she's taken the job. She's old enough to make that decision herself."

"You don't really think it's a good idea for her to see that ... that ... him again, do you?" Luke spluttered.

Lorelai kissed his cheek again, loving his love for her daughter. "I don't. But if I tell her that and forbid her from taking the job, then I'm just going to act too much like my mother for my peace of mind. And if things does go wrong, as it inevitably does with him around, she'll need her mother."

Luke grumbled incoherently as he opened the truck door for Lorelai. "But he had better not lay a finger on her," he said, slamming his own door shut and turning the key in the ignition with unnecessary force. "If he does, I swear ..."

"Me too," Lorelai said quietly.

Luke shot a look at her, then reached over to pat her knee. Even after the years of intimacy, he still seemed a little clumsy when it came to words of comfort and love. He preferred doing something, making death threats, fixing broken door jambs, punching someone. Lorelai knew it, understood it and ultimately loved him for it.

"You staying with me tonight?" Luke asked gruffly. Unbeknownst to most Stars Hallow denizens, who assumed that Luke and Lorelai did all of their living at Lorelai's house, Lorelai still stayed over at the apartment above the diner from time to time. Especially when Luke had an early delivery, as he often had on Saturdays. After the time that had been wasted, what with estranged daughters and estranged ex-lovers and all of the elements of the universe conspiring against them, Lorelai hated the idea of spending anything more than the absolute minimum time apart. Run the diner. Take care of the Inn. But nights together, always and forever.

Lorelai folded her hand over Luke's. "Try and stop me."

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Saturday mornings was Jess's time with his daughter. On Saturdays, the other Stars Hollow grownups had errands to run, groceries to buy, bills to pay. So the mornings, from the first slurp of the chocolate milk to the moment he took Lily for lunch at Luke's, were just their time. They would watch Loony Tunes, classics that Jesse couldn't remember from his own days as a kid. He would read stories to her, fables and fairy tales and finely spun stories. Or he would sit with a book open on the couch, watching his daughter over the page, finding her more fascinating than any tale ever told. Lily would play with her blocks, constructing architectural oddities with the brightly coloured plastic, humming softly and tunelessly to herself. She would sit next to him, her little feet dangling over the edge, studying her picture books with a concentration copied from him. She would colour with her crayons, scribbling works of art he could never decipher. The ever-present Bear, the first gift from Luke, would be perched on her lap or squeezed under her arm or pressed tightly against her side. Bear was a stuffed dog, of a breed best described as 'mutt', which accompanied Lily everywhere and was the only third party who could be part of their Saturday morning rituals.

It never stopped amazing him that she was as happy in his company as he was in hers.

So when Miss Patty had concerned him in the diner a year ago, saying that Lily was just the right age for her Saturday morning beginner ballet class, Jess had wanted to scream his refusal. There was no way that he could sacrifice his Saturday sanctuary, no way that he could lose that little sliver of uninterrupted bliss. But Lily's eyes widened at the thought of the Sugar Plum Fairy and Angelina Ballerina, both of which Doula had introduced her to, and Jess couldn't refuse.

"_Come, Lily, it's time for your first ballet class." Lily came out of her room, shoulders drooped in a familiar gesture. Jess knelt down and looked at her. "Munchkin ...?"_

"_Bear is going to miss me," she whispered, holding down the dog's ears. "He's never been away from me."_

_It didn't take a child psychologist to figure it out. Bear, Jess and Saturday mornings had been a ritual filling Lily's memory. This was her first time away from the safety of her father's arms, Luke's diner, Lorelai's house or Sookie's kitchen at the Inn. She knew Miss Patty. She, inexplicably, liked Miss Patty. But this was her first solo flight, the first steps her tiny feet had to take alone in the adult world. No Jess. No Luke. No Lorelai. _

_No Jess._

"_Well," Jess said, lowering his voice also and picking up Lily's butterfly backpack, "you can take Bear with you. I know Miss Patty will feel safer with Bear around to keep an eye out for any strangers."_

_Lily looked at him, her green eyes clouded with an adult worry. "What if Bear runs away? What if I can't find him again?"_

_Jess felt his heart break. "Bear will never leave you, Munchkin."_

"_Promise?" _

"_Promise." _

And so Jess would walk with Lily and Bear to Miss Patty's. He would either wait in the gazebo, pretending to read while anxiously observing his little girl. Was she being friendly with the other girls? Were they being friendly with her? Did she fall? Did she hurt herself? He knew that his presence both reassured and annoyed Miss Patty, a mixture of look-how-adorable-Jess-is-being and I-am-perfectly-capable-of-taking-care-of-your-kid-you-hooligan. Bear always bounced along in Lily's backpack, even when the butterflies had to be replaced with ballerinas. And as Lily became more confident, letting go of Jess's hand to run towards her friends, Jess would force himself to walk home slowly, knowing that Miss Patty would bring her back safely. And welcoming the opportunity to give Miss Patty a glimpse into the house, the clean and childproof lounge she could see from the door sufficient evidence that Child Protection Services didn't need to be called.

When Miss Patty dropped Lily off after her ballet class this particular morning, Jess felt his heart flip. His radiant little girl was a sad little shadow. Instead of dancing inside, babbling about her class and the music and her friends, she dragged her feet inside and wouldn't look at him as she took off her coat. He barely greeted Miss Patty as she left, too worried about what could have happened to make his daughter so heartbreakingly miserable. His mind, fuelled by an active imagination and the memories of his own childhood, raced through all the possibilities.

"What is making you sad, munchkin?" he asked directly. Perhaps other fathers, better fathers, would've let her tell it herself, wouldn't have pried it from her. But Jess couldn't stand the thought that somebody broke his little girl inside without him knowing it.

She looked at her toes as she scuffled her feet on the floor, clutching Bear tightly to her chest. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"What happened?" Jess asked, trying not to scare her with his fear.

"I'm sorry I made Mommy go away," she whispered.

"What do you mean, Lily?"

"Everybody else at Miss Patty's has a mommy and a daddy. But I don't and Steve says it's because I was so naughty that my mommy went away," she explained in the barest of voices.

Jess cupped her porcelain chin in his shaking hand and forced her to look at him. "Steve is wrong. Your mommy ... " How do you explain the concept of death to a four-year old who thinks she drove her mother away? Do any words exist that can explain to a child why her mother is dead without leaving her terrified that her father will die also? "Lily, do you trust me?"

She nodded once, her widened green eyes never leaving his.

"Have I ever broken any promise that I have made to you?"

She shook her head quickly, whipping her black hair around her face. He smoothed the hair from her face and tucked the stray curls behind her ears. "I promise you that if your mommy could be here, she would be. You are the best little girl in the world and you have done nothing to make your mommy go away. Do you believe me?"

She stared at him wordlessly.

"Lily?"

She nodded once and he released his anxiety in a deep breath. Jess had never used words like 'mommy' and 'daddy' around her. It would've been too confusing, especially once the idea to move to Stars Hollow became a reality. Who was truly her grandfather, Jimmy in California who forgot her birthday or Luke who stayed up all night to make the perfect Bear cake? Jimmy who barely knew what his son looked like or Luke who modelled him into the man he became? And since he could never convince himself to call Liz 'Mother', he couldn't introduce her to his daughter as 'Grandmother'. Besides which, there was Stepgrandfather TJ and Aunt April and Aunt Doula and Honorary Stepgrandmother Lorelai and, by association, Honorary Aunt Rory. Which was all ludicrous and not just because Doula was scarcely older than Lily. Not just because it could, should, must be 'Mom' Rory ... Lily had followed his lead, with the names as much as with everything else, and simply addressed everyone by name. Calling him 'Daddy' started shortly after she began her ballet classes. It surprised him at first and delighted him since.

"Lily, you know how the same word can mean different things?" he began slowly. Surely a wordsmith, a New York Times bestseller, a publisher, an editor must be able to find right words to tell this fragile child? "Well, words like 'mommy' and 'daddy' really just mean somebody who wants to take care of their kids. Somebody who makes them sandwiches and takes them to ballet classes and reads books with them. Somebody who listens to their problems and reads them stories at bedtime and kisses them goodnight. You understand?"

Lily's green eyes frowned. "But that means Luke and Lorelai and Rory and Liz and TJ and Miss Patty and Sookie and Babette are my mommy and daddy too, because they do those things too."

Jess nodded, feeling relieved that she managed to leap aboard his train of thought. "Yes. That is my point. You may not have your mommy around, but you have very many people around who take care of you, who love you and who want you to be happy. I know it's not exactly the same as having a mommy in the normal sense of the word, but can you see that a lot of people want to make sure that you have the best life you can have?"

She nodded solemnly, as though the horribly convoluted sentence made perfect sense to her. "Are you sure I didn't make Mommy go away?"

"As sure as I am that Luke is going to make you a big plate of cherry pancakes when we go to the diner," he promised her, gathering her close and kissing the tip of her nose. "Go put on your shoes and then we can go."

When they arrived at the diner a few minutes later, Jess ordered her cherry pancakes and his eggs from Luke. He then grabbed Lane's arm and, despite her loud protestations and flyswatting movements, frogmarched her into the apartment above the diner.

"Jess, have you gone insane?" Lane shrieked, slapping him with her notepad and turning to leave. He grabbed her arm again. "Your son told my daughter that she was so naughty that her mother left her." The fury left Lane's face, replaced by shock first and sympathy second. "Oh, Jess, I am so sorry."

"Sorry's not good enough, Lane!" Jess yelled, feeling the anger and frustration and fear steamroll out of his throat. He would not have chosen Lane to confide in, would not have wanted to spill his anxieties like marbles clattering across a floor, but he couldn't make himself shut up. "I had to convince my little girl that nothing she has done in her four short years is bad enough to make somebody stop loving her! I had to try and convince her that there's enough people in this town, crazy as it is, who want to love her and take care of her and I don't know if what I said made sense to her or if she's going to remember it tonight, when she's lying in bed and wondering what her mommy's face looked like!"

"Jess ..."

"I have to be everything for that child, Lane! I have to be her mother and her father and what the hell does a man like me know about little girls? I can't help her with her damn ballet moves, I don't know if the Sleeping Beauty Prince Charming or the Cinderella Prince Charming is the best Prince Charming, I don't know how to tell her where babies come from or why she's having her period or what to do when she falls in love with a boy! That's all conversations that you need a mother for!"

Lane gripped his shoulder in a gesture of sisterly affection that made him fall silent. He tugged at his hair and sighed brokenly into his hands. "You were an irresponsible, immature jerk of a teenager and you couldn't stand being nice to anyone," Lane remarked.

"Wow, that's comforting," Jess muttered.

Lane touched his face, unconsciously aping the way he took hold of Lily's chin. "But you have changed, Jess. You have grown into a responsible, mature father who can finally accept help when needed. Raising kids, even when you have a spouse, is not easy. It's frustrating and difficult and you keep second-guessing your every single move."

Jess blankly stared at her. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I think every parent does. Even the Waltons must have had their moments," Lane shrugged matter-of-factly. "But you realised you couldn't cope on your own and you moved to a community you hated just to give the best of the world to your daughter. You willingly moved into close proximity with Taylor and Miss Patty and Kirk just so your daughter will get to know Luke and April and the rest of her quirky family. I have never seen that little girl hungry or scared or wearing anything less than immaculately clean clothes. You've done good, Jess. And it's okay to feel overwhelmed every now and again."

Jess sighed the sigh of a man who ran a marathon in his soul. "Thanks, Lane. And sorry for yelling at you."

"'Thanks' and 'sorry'. Two words teenage Jess never said, but that grownup Jess uses to great effect," Lane smiled. "And I will talk to Steve about what he said. Have him apologise to Lily, if you want."'

"Maybe it might just be for the best to have it blow over and not remind her of it." Jess frowned. "Does the second guessing ever stop?"

"Maybe when they hit puberty," Lane mused. "Now, if the shouting and the Seventh Heaven moments are all out of the way, I need to go wait on some tables."

"I'll come with you. If I leave Lily alone for too long, Taylor gets upset."

They left the apartment. Unbeknownst to Jess, Lorelai had indeed spent the night in the apartment above the diner. And this morning, Rory had brought her mother coffee in bed and the Lorelais were sitting cross-legged on the bed when Jess burst in with Lane. In his fury and her shock, neither one noticed the Gilmore girls. Lorelai looked at Rory, who was staring at the door as though she wanted to follow Jess and was too afraid to do so. "Poor Jess. The why-is-one-of-my-parents-missing-conversation is no fun," Lorelai murmured. "I remember when you asked me why your father didn't feature more prominently in your life. I don't remember exactly what I replied, but I remember obsessing about it for weeks afterwards and wondering if I said the right thing."

"You told me that there are different types of families in the world, just like there are different types of candy," Rory recalled.

"Did it work?"

Rory bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't think any kid ever stops blaming herself for not having both parents around."

Lorelai pulled Rory into a hug.

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Rory studied her reflection in the car door critically. Anyone would've told her instantly that the aquamarine silk was the perfect match for her eyes and that the cut of the dress, with an embroidered bodice leading to a skirt that flared out over her hips, suited her slender figure and emphasised her femininity. But she wanted to make sure that she looked not just pretty and not just beautiful, but perfect.

For the donors, of course.

"Well, Gilmore, it's too late to change now," she told herself firmly and locked the Prius before striding into the Peach Room. The Peach Room was one of Hartford's most exclusive, luxurious venues and it had been decorated with a subdued Christmas spirit tonight. The traditional red and green decorations made way for sparkling white fairy lights; Rudolf and Santa were replaced by elegantly crafted crystal stars and Rory recognised the string quartet from the night before. She grimaced to herself, wondering how many more stringed versions of Away In A Manger she could endure before shoving the bow down the violinist's throat. She scanned the room for familiar figures, noticing a few faces from her days in Hartford high society and recognising others from their prominence in business papers.

"Ah, here is our newest acquisition." Professor Tarkington beckoned her over with a crooked finger and she willingly went to one of few faces she was personally acquainted with. "Rory Gilmore, granddaughter of Richard and Emily. You know the Gilmores, Floyd? I believe you have had some business dealings with Richard.

"Richard and I have done business since we argued over who gets what cut of the Whiffenpoofs' income," Floyd Stiles slickly said, bringing Rory's hand to his lips for an oily kiss. She just managed not to flinch at his touch. "Hello again, Rory. Jonathan is very excited about having you join his staff."

"Although I believe you come, ah, highly recommended?" the overly styled blonde at Floyd's side smirked. "Jonathan would be excited about me too, if I could get all my rich former lovers to sing my praises."

"And I'm sure there's many rich former lovers to sing your praises," Rory said with innocent sweetness, a glint of steel in her eyes.

"And there are many praises of Rory to be sung," Logan Huntzberger said, materialising at Rory's side. He glanced at her quizzically. "Was that the most grammatically correct way to phrase that?"

"At least you didn't end on a preposition," Rory stammered, feeling her heart slam against her ribs. Undoubtedly the tuxedo Logan wore was from a designer who earned more in a week than the people of Burkina Faso did in a year. But he could've worn jeans and a grungy Nirvana T-shirt and still have been the most handsome man in the room. "Paris would be so proud."

_He looked so styled and poised and so ... Logan._

"Making Paris proud? Then I have accomplished one of my life's missions," Logan said with the expansive grin Rory remembered so well. He took two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Rory. "Let's toast." He clinked the side of his glass against hers and looked at her. "To accomplishing all of our life's missions. However long it may take."

Rory gulped down her champagne, hardly tasting the Moët that steadied her nerves. "However long it may take," she echoed.


	6. Unfinished Sentences, Words Left Unsaid

**6. Unfinished Sentences And Words Left Unsaid**

The smoke curled through the starless air, staining the sky like a question mark, hanging overhead like a toxic cloud. Rory hesitated, watching the smoker before her, not sure if she could interrupt his reverie. Not sure of the reception she'd receive. As though he heard her thoughts, Logan turned toward her and gave her that little half-smile she remembered so well.

"I didn't know you smoked," she stammered, feeling like a child who got caught peeping at the adults after bedtime.

Logan shrugged eloquently. "It's a new habit. And, as with most of my filthy new habits, I blame Colin and Finn for it."

"Convenient," Rory smiled, stepping out onto the balcony. Behind her, the noise of the Christmas fundraiser in the Peach Room continued. Outside, with Logan, it was quieter and the air was fresher, cleansed of any noxious gossip and poisonous compliments. She had forgotten how much she disliked Hartford high society, Rory reflected, how little time she truly had for those who considered construction problems and domestic difficulties issues of national importance. And although she hadn't forgotten how much she enjoyed Logan's company, she was unprepared for the flash of pure joy she felt when she saw him again.

"So has life been good for you, Rory?" Logan asked politely.

Rory nodded. "I am enjoying the new job, even though it's not the wisest idea to start something new just before Christmas. It took me a week to track down the Human Resources officer who was supposed to process my salary payments."

"Hussy ran off to Balito to soak up some sun, huh?"

"Close. Hussy was sitting under his desk with the AC on full blast, swigging Malibu from a bottle and crooning to an Elvis Does Christmas CD."

"Bet you my smoking doesn't look so bad in comparison."

"It looks positively healthy," Rory concurred, twirling a strand of hair. "How have you been, Logan?"

"California has been good," Logan replied, stubbing out the cigarette and clasping his hands together on the balcony rail. "Different from New England in a variety of ways, but good."

"No need to blast the AC to get the illusion of warmth, huh?"

"Something like that," Logan smiled at her. For a moment, they simply stood together on the balcony, watching the Hartford lights sparkle beneath then.

_Not bad, Gilmore. Not bad at all for two people who haven't seen each other in four years, last when one turned down the other's marriage proposal. And he doesn't look like he's spent the last four years sitting in his darkened closet, cradling pictures of me to his chest while eating Fruit Loops from the box and singing sad indie love songs to himself. He looks like he's had a good time in California. Good. Yeah. _

"Enjoying having a settled home address again?" Logan asked, lighting another cigarette and letting it dangle between his fingers.

"Immensely," Rory smiled. "Although it's rather strange to be living back in Stars Hollow after having travelled so much."

Logan frowned at her. "You're living in Stars Hollow? Why?"

"Because I'm not a Rockefeller, Logan, I can't afford something nice in Hartford."

"Like that hole you lived in with Paris and Doyle was the Paris Ritz?"

"Why do you care where I live, Logan?"

"Because you're supposed to be moving forward, Rory," Logan stubbed out the cigarette violently and Rory flinched from his fury. "Remember? That's why you didn't want to marry me, because you wanted to have all of the wonderful opportunities that the world was going to get you. You didn't want to settle down with me, because that would deprive you of all the opportunities you so desperately craved. But now you're moving back with your mom and her diner boyfriend? That's not moving forward. It's moving backward, turning away from everything that I could have offered you and declining every opportunity for advancement. It's pathetic, actually."

"Don't talk like that about Luke," Rory protested angrily, feeling a sting of tears. "He owns that diner and quite a few other buildings in town."

"Yeah, he's a real Donald Trump," Logan sneered.

"And you're a real snob, Logan."

"At least I don't run from opportunity. At least I don't throw away every chance I could ever have of happiness."

"You did when you broke up with me," Rory shouted furiously, wiping ineffectively at her wet cheeks. "I'm not the one that ran away from the opportunity of us being together, Logan, you did!"

"Because I'm not willing to settle down in my childhood house, in my childhood dreams," Logan yelled back. "Because I wanted more for me, for you, for us than simply settling down in a dead-end routine in a dead-end town. You always knew I was ambitious, Ace, you always brought out that side of me! In the end, you left me for your own ambitions. And if I could see you fulfilling those dreams, chasing down those ambitions, I could've taken it. But you threw away your chances of happiness with me and you're not doing the job you should be doing!"

"You set me up with this job! Did you set me up only to fail? Is that one of your life goals, wreaking revenge on me for not wanting to marry you just after graduating college?"

"You were supposed to be in Washington!" Logan bellowed. "Washington, Ace, not Hartford! Washington is bustling with politics and politicians and everything you always said you wanted to write about! Everything you need to satisfy your career goals is there! But you ask for a position in Hartford, simply so that you can move back into your old house and play at being a grownup!"

"Logan, you broke up with me for not wanting to marry you straight out of college! You are the one that ended our relationship, not me. I never said I didn't want to be with you, only that I didn't want to get my marriage certificate and my college degree all on the same day! You decided that wasn't good enough for you, so what right do you have to be so angry about the way I choose to live my life?" Rory hissed.

"Because you turned me down for your ambition and now you are turning down your own ambitions," Logan slammed his hand onto the railing. "I miss you, Rory, I think about the life we could have had every damned day. When I thought that you were actually working toward your goals, running around with a notepad and pen, ready to scare every politician straight, setting the world on fire with your exposes and your articles, I could bear the thought of not being with you. But now I see you're content with commuting between your childhood house and a job you were supposed to be doing in the political hub of the free world! And you're standing in front of me, looking all sleek and sexy and ... "

"Logan, I ..."

His hands gripped her waist with an urgency she never felt from him and he crushed his mouth to hers, muting her reply with a passionate kiss.

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"So how was your shindig last night, favourite daughter of mine?" Lorelai chirped as Rory stumbled blearily into the kitchen the following morning. Rory poured herself some coffee as she mumbled a reply, slumping down at the table to drink it. Lorelai glanced at her with veiled concerned. "That good, huh?"

"Just boring," Rory responded, knowing better than to mention the fireworks on the balcony. That little Mills & Boon moment was anything but boring. Passionate, yes. Fiery and fiercely amorous, too. Unexpected, definitely. But not boring. Her mouth still stung with the force of Logan's kisses, her cheeks still flamed with his hot breath, her body still tingled with the imprint of his searing touch. "Just bland canapés and boring businessmen."

"Sounds like Christmas," Lorelai remarked, handing her daughter a PopTart.

"Hmmm."

"Did you see Logan?" Lorelai asked, trying and slightly succeeding in sounding casual.

Rory crumbled the PopTart between her fingers. "Uh-huh."

"Was it like Atonement or was it more like a Quentin Tarantino version of former lovers meeting again?"

"It was like two people seeing each other again after four years of not speaking to each other," Rory said, remembering how Logan pressed his body to hers. And how good it felt. God, she'd almost forgotten how good it could feel.

"You think you'll see him again?"

"I don't know," Rory replied, remembering his whispered request to meet him in a week's time.

"Just remember, hon, that there's bound to be some unresolved feelings between you. You go from almost marrying him to not seeing him. That's bound to leave you feeling a little like you should talk to Oprah about it," Lorelai said, refilling Rory's coffee cup. "And you're bound to feel a little obligated to him after he helped you with the job."

_And after the way he kissed you, you're bound to feel a little weak in the knees, a little dizzy in the clouds. Gilmore, you're starting to sound sappy. Stop it._

But as Rory sipped her coffee, she allowed the feeling to creep up on her. The feeling that the unresolved feelings between herself and Logan would remain unresolved, that the words left unsaid and thoughts left unspoken would finally be said and spoken. Soon.

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_A/N: Love the Logan? Loathe the Logan? Enjoying the revival of the Rogan? Please review!_


	7. The Paths That Led Us Here

**7 – The Paths That Led Us Here**

"Not too close to the water," Jess admonished as he helped Lily to put on her galoshes.

She made a face at him. "The duckies are close to the water."

"Still," Jess said firmly.

"Okay, Daddy," Lily said, then ran towards the pond. Jess shook his head and sighed as his daughter began to sprinkle breadcrumbs at the ducks. _So like her mother, that combination of sugar and sass._ He sat down on one of the benches, pretending to read his Carlos Ruiz Zafon, while watching his daughter carefully. Whenever she came with him to work, he would bring her to Bushnell Park for lunch. Of course, she insisted on feeding most of her sandwich to the ducklings instead of eating it. But that is why he had an emergency supply of fruit in his office.

"I wondered if you read The Shadow of the Wind," an unexpected voice said. Jess looked up at Rory, who was standing at the bench with an awkward smile. "I mean, there's the obvious book lover's angle that would entice you, but I would've thought you'd find the descriptions too flowery."

"It's very Baroque," Jess agreed. "Like a cathedral of words."

"Nice way of looking at it." Rory pointed her chin at the space next to him. "This seat taken?"

"No."

Rory sat down next to him, holding a cup of takeaway coffee in her hand.

"Luke is going to be mad that you're supporting the enemy," Jess remarked, closing his book and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He kept his eyes on Lily as she spoke. "Although I won't tell if you won't tell."

"Sounds fair," Rory said, sad that talking with Jess became so difficult. She had seen him on the bench when she walked through Bushnell Park, heading back to the office after successfully hunting down coffee on her lunch break. She had hesitated before joining him, finally prompted by the realisation that they both seem set in Stars Hollow for the foreseeable future. Since it was annoying to avoid someone in a hamlet the size of a stamp, and since a Christmas feast with all the extended family was looming ahead, she figured it would be better to get on friendlier terms.

"So what happened at your grandparents' Christmas shindig?" Jess asked abruptly. "Luke has been in a bad mood since."

Rory bit her lip. "Luke is upset that I got the new job because of a recommendation from Logan Huntzberger."

Jess merely nodded, the line of his shoulders stiffening. "Why would that upset him so much?"

"I guess a dislike of Logan runs in the family," Rory teased.

Jess glanced at her. "Seriously, though. He seems disproportionately upset."

"It's because of what happened with Sam," Rory explained reluctantly, waiting for the explosion.

Instead, Jess just furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "Who is Sam?"

"A journalist I met on the campaign trail a year or so ago," Rory said. "Luke never told you this?"

"Are you confused Luke with Miss Patty?" Jess crooked an eyebrow. "You know he only talks under duress."

Rory inclined her head. "True. Well, we met on the campaign trail. There was a mix-up with the room allocations that night."

"_There's got to be a mistake somewhere," Rory stammered, holding her robe close tightly. _

_Sam smiled easily. "Whoever arranged the sleeping arrangements for this stop-over probably assumed that Sam Brown and Rory Gilmore are of the same gender. While it is certainly an inconvenient error of assumption to make, there is precious little we can do about it now."_

_Rory glared at the self-assured man at her hotel door. "I don't care what the other journalists on this campaign trail are getting up to. I'm not sharing my hotel room with a strange man."_

"_Admirable ethics indeed," Sam said politely. "However, I've just spent twenty-three hours on a variety of planes, trains and buses to get here. I am too tired to take advantage of you, however beautiful you are in your robe and bunny slippers."_

"_Don't mock my bunny slippers," Rory protested. "They're the only comfortable shoes I have."_

"_You understand how tired a person can be after chasing down stories all day," Sam said pursuasively. "I promise I'm just going to have a shower, brush my teeth, crawl into bed and wait for the sweet swell of sleep to quell that niggling thought that my dad was right and that being a doctor would've been easier."_

_Rory sighed. She had been looking forward to a quiet, relaxed evening with a female fellow journalist. Maybe one who would've been willing to help her touch up her nails, which were turning into demon claws fit to be featured on the Omen. A boy did not feature in her plans. Especially not a tall James McAvoy-type of boy. _

"_If I snore, you can throw me with a pillow," Sam added. _

_Rory felt herself waver. It was cold. It was late. It was raining a steady sleet of ice outside._

"_If you feel strongly about preserving your space," Sam sighed, "I can probably slink down to reception and ask for another room. Given the No Vacancies sign flashing in the lobby, I think that's going to be futile. And, given the fact that there's three major concerts, two important basketball matches and one event of major political significance happening in this city tonight and tomorrow, I highly doubt I'll find anything but No Vacancies signs anywhere. And you wouldn't want to kick a fellow journalist to the curb when you have a perfectly good bed going spare in your room, would you?"_

_Rory sighed._

"_Besides, I can't be crazier than some of the girls you've had to share your room with."_

_Despite her misgivings, Rory smiled. "You mean you're saner than the one who insisted on having all the lights on all the time or the one who needed to have Michael Bolton playing before she could fall asleep?"_

"_And I won't pilfer your favourite nail polish either."_

_He really couldn't be worse than some of the girls she's had to share with, Rory thought, and she begrudingly held the door open. "I'm going to clobber you with the pillow if you snore."_

"_Sounds fair," Sam grinned._

"I bet Lorelai loved that," Jess said evenly.

"I didn't have much choice," Rory pointed out. "I could hardly send him out into the cold, wet night to catch his death of pneumonia."

"Of course not, Mother Teresa."

"Besides, he brought me coffee and an assortment of pastries the next morning."

"So of course you were firm friends, Miss Sesame Street."

"Of course," Rory replied, refusing to rise to Jess's gentle ribbing. "And it's clear which journo's are friends with each other and which aren't. Especially if you've lived your life in newsrooms. Like Mitchum has."

"So Mitchum saw you were friends with Sam? So what?"

"That's what I thought," Rory drew a deep breath, thrusting her hands in her coat. "Except that he went to California and told Logan that he made the biggest mistake of his life letting me get away."

"I thought Blonde Dick Senior liked you as much as I liked Blonde Dick Junior?"

Rory frowned at him and he made a placatory gesture. "Until he saw how much I brought out the ambitious side of Logan and decided that perhaps I'm not the golddigging trainsmash he thought I was."

A muscle jumped in Jess's jaw as he bit down on angry words.

"Through some twist of fate I've never quite understood, Colin and Finn decided to see if Sam was indeed worthy of the Great Gilmore, as they put it. I have a feeling a lot of tequila went into that particular decision making process. So they abducted Sam from a press conference for some Life or Death Brigade type of stunt."

Jess's eyes widened in disbelief. Rory nodded. "I'm serious. They kept him kidnapped for forty-eight hours, then dropped him back at the conference centre with a Nike logo shaved onto his head."

"I remember reading about that," Jess said slowly, then whistled through his teeth. "So Luke and Lorelai blame Logan for orchestrating the fake kidnapping of a close friend of yours. No wonder they're so set agains the idea of you taking the job with Professor Tarkington."

"My grandparents think it is some grandiose gesture of love," Rory said, "but I think Logan pulled the strings because he felt guilty for what Colin and Finn did."

_I don't think he's capable of emotions like guilt, Rory, I think he's trying to get you back. _

"You be careful, okay," Jess said gruffly.

Rory felt tired, too tired to spar. "It's just a job, Jess."

"Yes. But be careful nevertheless."

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Jess's warning echoed through her head for the rest of the afternoon. She heard his voice as she drafted an analysis of the situation in Iran. She heard his voice as she showered after work. She heard his voice as she got dressed, got in the car and got on her way to meet Logan.

_You be careful, okay._

She shook her head, trying to dislodge his voice and her own sentiments. Logan had always been reliable, punctual, trustworthy. And he had really stepped to the plate, emulated Florence Nightingale, when her grandfather had been hospitalised. And yet … and yet there had been flashes of violent temper, moments of cruel hostility, a certain current of possessiveness that had run through everything he'd done. Whenever someone showed interest in her, whenever he felt threatened, he would snarl like a cornered animal. Look at his reaction when he came back a night early from Nebraska to find her and Jess in her grandparents' driveway. Look at how he treated Marty. Do all boys react like that?

"You're being ridiculous, Gilmore," Rory told herself resolutely, steering the Prius into a parking lot. "Logan is just Logan. A little spoilt, perhaps, but that's the worse you can say about him. Besides, he'd never do anything to hurt me."

_You be careful, okay._

Rory parked the car and drew a deep breath. "Besides, I'm excited to see him again," she admitted softly to the silence around her. "Besides, I think I might still love him."

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_A/N: Please review!_


	8. Tinsel, Turkey and Secrets

**8 – Tinsel, Turkey and Secrets**

_**A/N: **Happy Holidays, all! Hope you are enjoying the festive season with your loved ones. Instead of getting me soap or socks, why don't you leave me a review at the end of the chapter? _

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"I still think it would be great if you could join us for Christmas dinner," Rory cajoled. They were still a few minutes away from the Inn; enough time to twist Logan's arm properly, she thought.

Logan smiled happily as he looked at her. "I still think that I need to be awake at four tomorrow morning to conference call some Asian folk. And they don't get happy if you keep them waiting."

"How will coming to a fabulous Christmas dinner that will bear no resemblance whatsoever to the Disney channel make you late for your meeting?"

"With you, there's always something," Logan teased. "And how could a Christmas dinner resemble the Disney channel? Is your holiday events usually overrun by Caribbean pirates or men looking to steal the Declaration of Independence?"

"Taylor won't give them the necessary permits to pirate and plot treason in Stars Hollow," Rory replied. "I just meant that most Disney movies showing Christmas dinners involve some big secret that at first threatens to drive a wedge between the characters. And then they are infected by the spirit of Christmas and make up under the Christmas tree."

"So are you promising no secrets, no trees or no reconciliation?"

"Well, we have seven trees. We are going to tell my mother about our reconciliation and therefore there'll be no secrets requiring any further reconciliation," Rory said determinedly. After a few more clandestine dates with Logan, she realised that they had left too many words unsaid and that they weren't as finished as four years of silence had lead her to believe. Whether she planned for it or not, whether her mother approved of it or not, the currents of fate had pulled her back into a relationship with Logan. It was still a tacit, unspoken relationship, the type of relationship that exists before it is acknowledged and given a name. But it was there nevertheless and Rory thought it best to tell Lorelai before the festive season was over. She pulled into the driveway of the Inn and carefully parked her Prius. "Let's go spill the secrets and get the reconciliation out of the way," she said chirpily, then frowned as she got no response from Logan. "Logan?"

Logan was staring out of her window, staring at three figures trundling through the snow towards a familiar green truck. Luke was carrying Lily on his shoulders while Jess had his hands full with brightly wrapped parcels. From the expressions on the three faces – Jess smiling ruefully, Luke grinning, Lily laughing joyously – it was clear that Luke and Lily were teasing Jess about something, although Rory could not hear the words. She bit her lip and sighed. Was Logan going to be difficult about Jess joining the family for Christmas dinner? She had casually mentioned Jess and his daughter on one of their dates, part of their oh-what-happened-to-that-person conversations. (Shira and Mitchum were still presenting a front of happy marriage; Finn had turned his hand to musical theatre with immense, startling success; Colin had metamorphosed into a true blue captain of industry; Josh and Honor had gotten divorced and in the aftermath, Honor had lost touch with all of her family members and former friends; Paris was in the turmoil of deciding which direction to specialise and finally, unsurprisingly, settled on surgeon; Doyle was beavering away at a newspaper career, happily chasing his print dreams.) When she had mentioned Jess and his daughter to Logan, he had seemed perfectly Prince Charming about it. She had surreptitiously watched him for the revealing flash of jealousy, the edifying blaze of possessiveness – only to be met with bland civility and questions about other Stars Hollow residents. (His polite correctness was one of the reasons she had allowed destiny to tug them closer, if she was going to be perfectly honest about it.)

"Logan?"

Logan blinked and looked at her. "I'm assuming that's Jess and his daughter?"

Rory nodded. "She's very close to Luke and, by extension, my mother."

"Well," Logan said, almost as though to himself, then gave her a cordial smile, "I suppose I'll get to know her better at Christmas dinner."

Rory felt like sighing. It was clear that Logan's acceptance of the Christmas dinner invitation was simply to keep an eye on her friendship with Jess, a way of checking that there truly was nothing but courtesy and amiability between them. _Stop it_, she told herself firmly. _You can't second guess everything that Logan does. You know that he wasn't jealous when you mentioned Jess to him the first time; why would that have changed? You're just letting Jess' warning get under your skin and you're being unfair to Logan. Besides, you wanted him at Christmas dinner, so be happy, Santa Gilmore._

"Let's go have lunch with my mother," Rory said, forcing a Donna Reed-esque cheerfulness. "Everything always seems better after a Sookie special."

"What's a Sookie special?"

"If she asks, it's anything she makes."

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"So," Luke said uneasily, clearing his throat.

Jess packed the Christmas parcels under the tree, wondering what was on his uncle's mind. Since they had left the Inn and drove to Lorelai's house to start preparing for the Christmas dinner, Luke had been even more gruffly monosyllabic than usual. He had been expecting a conversation since Lily went to play with Babette's kittens. "So," he echoed dryly.

"So how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know. It."

"What it?"

Luke coughed, glaring at Jess with meaning. "You know. It it."

"You mean nobody ever had the birds and the bees talk with you?" Jess asked, trying to remember if he's ever seen his uncle look that uncomfortable. Perhaps when Taylor got too comfortable in his personal space. "Well, that explains why we've never heard the pitter patter of little Luke and Lorelai feet. You could switch on the Hallmark channel if you want a sentimental touch, but some of the more adult orientated channels might provide you with practical advice."

"Don't be a smartmouth," Luke growled as he adjusted his baseball cap. "Or such a pottymouth either. You know what I mean."

Jess flopped down on the couch. "No, I don't."

"How did you ask that girl to marry you?"

Jess exhaled with a laugh. "You planning on asking Lorelai?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know," Luke groaned, flopping down onto the couch next to his nephew, cradling his head in his hands. "I've been thinking about it, but I can't decide how. It has to be really special, you know."

"Yeah."

"I mean, last time she asked me. Just blurted it out. Now I don't know if she's waiting for me to ask her or if she doesn't want to get married to me."

"And you think a Nora Ephron gesture will change her mind on marriage?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know."

"At this stage, I'd like to point out that teenage Jess would be mocking you like a Comedy Central Roast for being such a wuss about asking Lorelai."

"And I'd like to point out that teenage Jess would've gotten his ass kicked."

"Now who's being a pottymouth?" Jess grinned. "Look, I'm probably not the best person to ask about being romantic. I did ask Lily's mom to marry me when I found out she was pregnant, but you know how that turned out."

"Which is why I'm planning on asking someone who isn't married already," Luke said. "And we're talking about a woman who puts snowflake-shaped pillow mints out once winter hits, who puts on a Christmas hat festooned with mistletoe, who has special Saint Patrick's Day underwear with clover and leprechauns on it and she's not even Irish. She likes her special occassions to be special, so whatever I do has to be amazing."

Jess half-sighed, half-laughed. "You're putting too much pressure on yourself about this. The important thing is asking. If she wants to say yes, she will. If she wants to say no, no amount of Garry Marshall or Richard Curtis is going to change that."

"How is Blackadder romantic?"

"It's not. So I was going for the Notting Hill and Love Actually, actually."

"How do you know who wrote Notting Hill and Love Actually?" Luke asked incredulously.

"You ever tried to stop a pregnant woman from watching romantic comedies?"

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Lily shouted as she ran inside the house, "Babette said that Peaches are going to have kittens in the new year and I can have one as a late Christmas present. Please can I have one, please, please, please?"

"Slow down, munchkin, no running in the house," Jess said, catching her in his arms and lifting her onto his lap. "More importantly, no tripping and knocking your head. Why do you want a kitten?"

"Because they are cute," Lily said. "And don't worry. I'll make sure that I feed the kitten and that the kitten always has clean water. Babette told me how important that is."

"Well …"

Lily blinked impishly at her dad. "And you say I should make friends. The kitten can be my friend. And Bear's friend, too. And your friend."

"She's got you there," Luke guffawed.

Jess tried to suppress his own smile. "Lily, it's time for a nap. We can talk about the kitten when you wake up."

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Rory felt the spirit of Christmas bubbling through her as she drove home. Lorelai had been neither happy nor entirely surprised by Logan's presence at lunch. But she had mirrorred Logan's sociable courtesy and graciously repeated the already accepted invitation to Christmas dinner. Logan and Lorelai politely discussed news events, the weather, what his family has been doing … until the salad came and they began staring at their forks with bored discomfort. But Rory manfully soldiered through the conversation, not allowing it to flag or wane, and to the other diners in the Inn could have mistook them for a happy outing. Rory knew that Sookie would be getting an earful about That Boy right about now and she felt a little sorry for that. _But if they want to be in a relationship with me_, she thought, _they're going to have to make an effort. Call that a cheap Christmas gift._

"So exactly what do we need to do at your house?" Logan asked as Rory parked.

Rory pulled a list from her glove compartment. "Follow Sookie's instructions to the T or risk a repeat of the Mash Potato Incident."

"And we don't want a repeat of that?"

"As much as we don't want a repeat of the Spanish Inquisition."

"Any chance we could decorate the house instead?"

"We could, but that would step on some toes. Jess and Lily usually take care of the decorations," Rory said carefully as they walked inside a tinsel-streaked living room. Lily was asleep on the couch, her head propped on Bear. She could hear Luke and Jess talking upstairs. Rory glanced at Logan and was surprised by his blank-eyed stare as he watched Lily sleep. "Logan?"

Logan's voice was tight, as though his throat was constricted by baseless fears. "Did Jess ever tell you who Lily's mother is?"

"No." Rory felt a first stab of fear jutting through her confusion. "I only know that she passed away shortly after Lily was born."

"In a car accident?"

"Yes."

"Caused by drunk high school seniors?"

Rory frowned. "How did you know?"

Logan took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a faded photograph. It was dog-eared and crinkled by overexposure to the light, but the face smiling from the photo was nevertheless startlingly recognizable. It was a candid snap of a young girl, little more than a toddler, playing school in a garden, reading from an upside down picture book to a row of stuffed animals and blank-eyed dolls. Rory touched a finger to the little girl's cheek, tracing familiar contours. "Logan, who is this?" she asked, almost knowing the answer already.

"Honor when she was five," Logan replied.

Rory looked from the photograph to the sleeping girl on the couch. The resemblance was uncanny, remarkable, unmistakable. The whys, the hows and the wherefors raced through Rory's head, jostling for position in her train of thought. "I never knew lilies were Honor's favourite flowers," she whispered.


	9. No Slapping At The Table

**9. No Slapping At The Table**

_A/N: I'm sure you all know, but just to clarify: the flashback scenes with teenage Jess is from the episode "Nick and Nora, Sid and Nancy" in the second season while the flashback scenes with adult Jess and Honor are all from my imagination. I know it's a little after Christmas, but doesn't a Christmas dinner just seem like the perfect setting to air all that dirty laundry? Hope you guys had a better Christmas than the one I'm describing in this instalment!_

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It would've been wonderful to say that he'd never been this awkward and unsure of himself, that he'd never been to a meal that promised so much in the way of anger and bile. Yet he had. And in this house, too.

_The hyper caffeinated woman from earlier opened the door, grinning and making a joke about gluttony in the Roman Empire. He ignores her and the sexual tension between her and his uncle, wandering off instead into the living room. On the mantelpiece are photographs, images of a childhood that must adorn every house in America. Every house, that is, except his. Liz had never been one for capturing the fleeting joys of being a child – first bath, first bike, first broken wrist. He wonders what it would've been like to grow up in Stars Hollow, how he would've turned out. Would it have been any better for him? _

_He's been ignoring the muted mumblings between Luke and Lorelai for so long that he only belatedly realises he's being beckoned to the kitchen. He follows and is immediately asked about his dietary preferences. Cheese. Lemons. Jackson scaring people with homegrown fruit. _

_And then he sees the girl from the pictures on the mantelpiece. _

Admittedly, the novelist in him had capitalised on the experience (Tudor-styled feast, Fellini film characters, dialogue straight from a Taylor Swift song – how could he not turn his pain into literary profit?) and turned it into one of his favourite short stories. And as an adult, Jess could appreciate the thought behind the gesture and not remember the gesture with the same shuddering horror. Yet he knew that tonight's dinner, a Christmas spent with the much loathed uncle of his much loved daughter and Rory, would never be turned into a novella of self-deprecation and angst. It was too close, too personal, too much. And the chance that Rory would give him the same happy support was too slim.

_He unlatched the window and nodded outside. "Shall we?"_

"_Shall we what?" she asks, looking perplexed. _

"_Bail," he clarifies._

"_No."_

"_Why?"_

_She grins. "Because it's Tuesday night in Stars Hollow. There's nowhere to bail to. The twenty-four hour mini-mart just closed twenty minutes ago."_

_He shrugs, unwilling to lose her company. It's been a welcome, surprising relief to find someone who seemed normal, someone who could carry on a conversation without appearing to have materialised straight out of Stepford. "So we'll walk around or sit on a bench and stare at our shoes."_

"_Look," she began, a placatory tone he would come to recognise as her normal Rory-let's-make-everyone-happy-even-if-they-don't-want-to-be-voice, "Sookie just made a ton of really great food and though it may not seem like it at this moment, it's going to be fun. Trust me."_

"_I don't even know you."_

_She widens her eyes innocently, another specialised Rory manoeuvre. "Well, don't I look trustworthy?"_

The same blue eyes, set in a slightly thinner and infinitely wearier face, stared at him in wide-eyed shock as he walked into the living room. He had seen the Prius pull up to the house from an upstairs window, had guessed from the stops and starts in their conversation that they had seen Lily sleeping on the couch and that Logan knew. Knew that the hated ex-boyfriend of his favourite ex-girlfriend had fathered a child with his adored older sister. _This is the part that sucks about being an adult_, Jess tells himself, _the fact that you can't escape your problems by unlatching a window or snaking a beer anymore. Heck, you probably couldn't solve your problems that way as a teenager either, but as a teenager you didn't really know it._ He squares his shoulders, looking from Rory to Logan to his daughter. "So."

"So," Rory echoes.

Logan remains quiet.

Luke, who had followed Jess downstairs, is first to notice that Lily is waking up from her nap. With unusual spontaneity, he swings the little girl from the couch onto his shoulders. "Let's go pick you out a kitten from Babette."

Lily looks at him with sleepy suspicion. "You just want to get me out the way before Santa comes and brings all the presents," she accuses him as they walk out of the house.

Luke glances back to his nephew, his almost-niece and her on-again-off-again-seemingly-on-again boyfriend. "He'd better bring a bloody Christmas miracle," he mutters.

As the front door closes, Jess sits down on the couch and looks at Rory and Logan. "So, what are you two planning for New Year's Eve? Something rocking, I bet!"

"Is that my sister's daughter?" Logan asks.

"She," Jess replies, emphasising the pronoun with exaggerated care, "is my daughter."

"And her mother is my sister."

"Yes." Although he didn't take his eyes from Logan's junkyard dog expression, he can see Rory flinch at the bald admission. He feels a spark of irritation. What right did she have to be surprised or shocked or upset by Lily's parentage? She had four years to ask him, Lorelai, Luke ... Miss Patty and Babette either knew or would have hedged their bets in Kirk's pool on the identity of Lily's mystery mother with knowledgeable intuition. If it had mattered so much to her, to warrant such a reaction, she should have asked.

"Where did you meet?" Rory, sounding stunned, sits down in one of the overstuffed armchairs, carefully avoiding eye contact.

"_So we'll walk around or sit on a bench and stare at our shoes."_

"You remember I came to visit you while you were staying at your grandparents', to show you the book I'd written," Jess begins.

Rory glances at Logan, the memory of an uncomfortable night at a crowded bar and a hushed night in her borrowed floral bedroom clearly reflected on her face. "Yes."

"What you don't know is that Honor had been worried about your dropping out of Yale and abandoning all your academic dreams. She was especially worried that Logan was being a bad influence on you ..."

"What?" Logan, who had been pacing the room like a chained Rottweiler, glared at him. "If you're going to tell tales, I'd expect a supposed 'writer' to come up with something a little more original."

Jess shrugs, letting Logan's anger wash off his back. "You can verify whatever you want with both Luke and Lorelai. Lorelai will tell you that Honor went to the Dragonfly Inn to persuade her to convince Rory to return to Yale. It touched a bit of a nerve with Lorelai, since she couldn't even tell Rory about her own engagement at that stage. You remember that fight you had with your mother on the side of the road?" he abruptly asks Rory.

"Difficult to forget," Rory mumbles.

"That came just after she blew up at Honor, telling her that your decisions were your own to make, however wrong or misguided she might be. She ... well, Lorelai said quite a few things, including the fact that Gilmore girls always seem to follow where the wrong guys lead them."

"I fail to see what a personal conversation has to do with your affair with my sister," Logan growls. "Make like Hemingway and get to the point."

"The point," Jess says equably, "is that Honor heard of the day you went to New York to see me and ditched school from your mother. Honor figured that, if I could've convinced you to leave school, I could convince you to go back."

Rory smiles a little. "Sounds like something Honor would do."

"Yeah," Jess agrees, remembering the day that the fiery society blonde strode into Truncheon and demanded to see him.

"_Get your bags. You're coming with me," she told him without first introducing herself._

_He leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow at her determination. In his experience, women with discreet labels on their shoes and the unmistakable cut of money to their clothes seldom wanted him for something good. Nevertheless, he was curious. Could this highlighted, French manicured, pampered East Coast Barbie have him confused with someone else? Probably. Yet it would be fun to see. "Where to, milady?"_

"_Stars Hollow."_

_The mention of the town stiffens his back and he turns to walk away from her, throwing a "No, thanks" over his shoulder. She follows him to the stockroom, disregarding the STAFF ONLY sign on the door. _

"_Why not?"_

_Jess shrugged._

"_What, you're too busy being a self-important, pretentious, monosyllabic prick to go help your friend?"_

_This gets his attention. "Nice use of 'pretentious' and 'prick' in the same sentence. Might plagiarize it from you."_

"_Shut up and go pack," she ordered._

"_No."_

_She glares at him. _

_He sighs. "Who is my friend in Stars Hollow who needs help?"_

"_Rory. She's dropped out of Yale and she needs to be convinced to go back, otherwise she's just going to ruin her future and regret it so much and she'll end up hating my brother for it and she's so good for him, she really is, he is such a bonehead without her and ..."_

"_You want me to convince Rory to go back to school so that she won't break up with your brother for turning her into a drifter?" Jess interrupts. "A brother you yourself refer to as a bonehead?"_

"_Yeah," the blonde says, as though it is perfectly self-evident. "And you're going to have to fake surprise when she tells you she's dropped out. What, you have something better to do?"_

"_Well ..."_

"_You left town without saying goodbye to her, you broke her heart and, even though she may not realise it, it took her a very long time to get over you. You owe this to her, Jess, you owe it to her to at least try to fix the situation." The blonde girl stared at him, her voice surprisingly free from judgment or loathing. Something tugged in the bottom of Jess' stomach; something he had long forgotten surged to his heart. Here was a girl who knew exactly what he did, who could sketch the outlines of his teenage cruelty to Rory with perfect accuracy ... and yet who did not hate him, who did not treat him with the same angry contempt he experienced in Stars Hollow. A girl who seemed to know him well, who seemed to know all the things who would frighten away most ... and yet saw in him the power of redemption, the possibility of healing. _

_Jess Mariano was piqued. _

"Honour could be really persuasive," Rory remembered, looking at Jess with a softness around her eyes. "I remember once ..."

"And I remember once when we found out that my sister had a child with a social misfit who is leeching off society to provide for said child and everybody came to the point and told me exactly what happened," Logan interrupts her, rudely, not taking his eyes off Jess.

Rory frowned. "That was unnecessary."

Logan sighed, making a conciliatory gesture with his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm really thrown by this situation and I would like to have all the information. But I shouldn't snap at you, however frustrated I am."

"It's okay."

_It's not okay,_ Jess thought and was about to voice his opinion when Logan turned to him and asked, "Did you instigate her divorce?"

"You never really filled me in on that," Rory said, curiously. The cynical side of her, the one that overexposure to politics has honed to an edge, started calculating. Based on Lily's date of birth, the time that Honor and Josh separated might be very important. Sure, Lily looks like Honor and she has an unmistakable touch of Jess in her. But her love of books, her posture, her delight in storytales ... that could all be nurtured in her. "When exactly did she get a divorce?"

"Just after the Christmas we spent in London. At the time, it never seemed like quite the right moment to tell you. Besides, I wanted to respect her privacy and her right to inform whoever she wants to about her private thoughts and feelings." Logan shot a pointed look at Jess, conveying his disgust at Jess's disclosure of the conversation between Lorelai and Honor. "Then your grandfather got sick, business took off and I lost touch with Honor. Which I now realise she orchestrated to hide her pregnancy."

Rory nodded thoughtfully, remembering how quiet Honor had been over that Christmas. Something had nudged aside the easy cameraderie that had existed between them, something had caused Honor to be a little less happy and a lot more controlled around Rory. At the time, Rory had put it down to Honor's demanding schedule and her own imagination – surely, Honor would've told her if she'd been offended in some way? She now thought it quite possible that Honor had been consumed with guilt over her affair and fearing Rory's reaction. "So Honor got a divorce because she was having an affair with Jess."

Jess tousled his hair, wondering if he could tell them that it didn't happen like that. Not exactly. Not at all, actually.

"_He's _what_?" Jess exclaimed, orange juice shooting through his nose in surprise. _

_Honor giggled as she tossed him a napkin. "How elegant, you savage."_

"_Don't tell me news like that and expect me to go, Oh, how unpleasant for you, darling, now let us have some truffles and quiche," Jess growled in an affected British accent, dabbing at his wet face with the napkin. Honor giggled again and he shot a bemused look at her. They had become close friends since her visit to Truncheon and his subsequent visit to Rory; the fact that her husband had been transferred to Philadelphia made the friendship all the easier. Despite her heinous brother, despite her family connections, despite the fact that she had a lot more opportunities to spend time with Rory, he liked her. Liked her a lot. Underneath her designer clothes, beyond the couture exterior was a funny and warm woman who met him sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment. He had come to enjoy every moment he spent with her; even the ones she spent mocking him for messing orange juice on himself. "You don't seem particularly upset about the news."_

"_Because it's not news to me, silly," Honor said cheerfully, flopping down on the couch next to him and adjusting the Lalique lamp shade. "You think that my perfect insight into other people's personalities failed me and didn't show, as clearly as the nipples in the Batman suit, that Josh is gay?"_

"_So why did you marry him if you knew?"_

_Honor sighed as she pulled off her sandals and tucked her feet under her. "Do you have any idea what it is like to be a Huntzberger?"_

"_Your brother makes it look like it's the biggest accomplishment known to man," Jess said, instantly regretting his animosity. But he disliked her brother, have from the moment he had casually parked his expensive vehicle with the imported calf's leather seats across the driveway and always will. _

_Honor, who neither understood nor condoned his anger, didn't let it throw her. "To my parents, it pretty much is the biggest accomplishment known to man. All the money, the class, the privilege, the power ... but it only means something as long as other people want it, as long as other people want to be you. Which means that they spent an enormous amount of energy and money into projecting just the right image, just the balance between unimaginable luxury and down-to-earth neighbourliness."_

"_Which explains the handcrafted Belgian chocolates you gave out at Halloween."_

_Honor nodded. "Exactly. Which also means that everything has to be seen to be just right, you know? When we were kids, my brother and I had to be the best at everything we did. Top three academically, captains of the sports teams, leads in the school play ... you know my brother loved basketball. Absolutely adored it. When he was seven and somebody gave him a basketball for his birthday, he bribed our gardener into putting up a hoop so he could practice shooting baskets. And he needed the practice, trust me. Not that Logan noticed that he wasn't very good at basketball; he just enjoyed playing, pretending to be Shaq or Michael Jordan. My dad noticed his dedication and got one of the top coaches at Duke to come watch him play." _

_Jess was silent, the unbidden image of a golden-haired boy with an intense look of determined concentration popping into his mind. Two men in suits watching him, deciding over his future, while the boy is just playing for the fun of it._

"_When the coach said that my brother didn't seem to have the needed talent or height, my dad forced our gardener to take down the hoop. When my brother bribed James to put up a second one, my dad had James fired and told Logan that since he wouldn't be the best at basketball, he should leave it."_

_Honor started fiddling with the lampshade again. "So very early the next morning, Logan snuck out of the house with my dad's toolkit and began to put up the hoop again. My dad saw him from the study, stuck his head out the window and yelled at him, telling him what a disobedient son he is, what a disappointment he'll turn into. Logan got such a fright that he fell off the ladder. Right into the rose bushes, got a couple of nasty scratches and a few broken ribs. My dad told him to get up and to stop being such a sissy, then slammed the window shut and went to work. When our nanny arrived for work an hour or so later, she immediately took Logan to the doctor. He had to be hospitalised because of internal bleeding. My dad had her fired too and refused to give her a reference, so she had a difficult time finding another job. Docked Logan's allowance to pay for the damaged rose bushes, too."_

_Jess remained silent, knowing that no words could comfort her or take away the memories she had. Honor glanced at him, seemingly reading his mind. She had a knack for that. "Doesn't really explain why I married Josh, does it?"_

"_Not really," Jess admitted. _

"_Well, we always had enough food and warm clothes and nobody ever beat us. But a lot of things that happened, a lot of the ways our parents pushed us to be the best we could be ...," Honor bit her lip. "It wasn't child abuse, but it came close. And I would watch my mother watching my father berate us for not being smart enough or fast enough or strong enough and all she would do when he got vitriolic is to smoke another secret cigarette. She never stood up for us, Jess, she never defended us from his unreasonable expectations. Maybe because she demanded the same from us, maybe because she was too weak, maybe because she didn't really care enough about us. Whatever it was, I couldn't take the risk of becoming a mother like that myself. How could I have children when the same gene for being horrible could well be in me?" _

"_Now you're being ridiculous," Jess said robustly. "You would never let your child fall off a ladder or fire the nanny for taking him to the doctor."_

"_That's not the kind of chance you take with a child, Jess," Honor replied seriously. Jess realised that, misguided as she was, there was little he could say to convince her what a great mother she'd be. "And yet my dad became very pushy. Once I had a year or so left before completing my degree, he started insisting that I should get engaged, get married, get pregnant, give him the Huntzberger grandchildren that are expected of a man in his position."_

"_Your dad wanted you to have children so that he could show off to the world about what a great grandfather he is?"_

_Honor nodded. "I was dating Josh at a stage when my dad was getting really belligerent about my lack of bridal preparation. You're going to think badly of me, but I've spent my formative years watching this man discarding people who don't fit his script. It was a scary thought, that he would discard me for not fitting into his fantasy scenarios, that he would leave me to make my own living when I haven't gotten myself qualified yet."_

"_You don't fire daughters for not getting pregnant," Jess said, patting her knee, a testosterone-driven part of him wondering thoughts he wouldn't allow himself to utter. "And if he did, you would've been just fine. You would have survived."_

"_Instead, I survived by blackmailing Josh into marrying me," Honor said, her characteristic cheer reasserting itself into the conversation._

_Jess grinned. "Sounds like something you would do. Exactly how does one bribe a guy in ten days?"_

"_Easier that Kate Hudson makes it look," Honor laughed. "I had a friend who worked at a New York paper, doing a story on underage drinking in student towns. She snapped a pic of Josh at a gay club with her phone and BBM'd it to me, so I downloaded it onto my laptop and e-mailed it to him, threatening to upload it to his Facebook account if he didn't come to the flat right then to explain himself."_

"_Very James Bond of you."_

"_I'm like Sean Connery in heels," Honor retorted. "Anyway, he came running, told me it was his prerequisite college hanky-panky same-sex exploration phase. I told him that he could name more designers and Tony award winners than I could and had a more dedicated skin care routine. That he knew all of the moves to the Saturday Night Fever dance and had a stronger aversion to white after Labour Day than I do. All amounting to an expectation that it is not just an exploration phase, but in fact an admittance of his sexual orientation."_

"_All very politically correct and not at all a horrendous stereotyping, of course."_

"_Again, I'm like in Kofi Annan in heels. Anyway, we had quite an argument. I was hyperventilating because the man who I was expected to marry was more likely to rub baby oil on a drag queen from the Bronx than ever knock me up. And just as the paper bag tore, I started thinking that the problem may be the solution after all. Josh has parents that are as nightmarish as my own; they were also putting pressure on him to marry and to procreate. The idea of Josh being gay would be as welcome to them as if he voted Democrat." _

"_What a charming family."_

"_So much like my own. Anyway, Josh and I struck a deal. The perfect win-win situation. We both get our respective parental monkeys off our back, we get married and I don't have to run the risk of becoming pregnant."_

_Jess looked at her wonderingly. "And was the price worth it?"_

_Honor returned his gaze, an odd spark of intensity in her eyes. "I thought so at the time."_

_He'd never forgotten the conversation. Not just because it is far from an everyday occurrence to hear from your heterosexual best friend why she married a homosexual man with an overwhelming sense of relief, but also because it marked a turn in their lives. Their acquaintance had cemented itself into friendship, with slowly blossomed into a relationship. It was nothing at first; just a steady increase in time they spent together, apart from mutual friends. They would have brunch together with mock battles over the Leisure section, watch midnight showings of cult classics with derisive glee and pockets full of candy, occasionally fall asleep on the other's couch. It was the closest Jess had ever come to experiencing a fully mature, adult relationship – the fact that it was an asexual, chaste affair with a married woman seemed nothing less than expected. _

_Then Halloween came, the night Honor had set aside to finally force him into watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show. (Chris and Mark teased him endlessly; that a woman could make him watch anything starring Susan Sarandon without sleeping with him was, apparently, definitive proof that his manhood should be revoked.) He had arrived at the house she still shared with Josh, armed with enough candy to set up a Willy Wonka booth, and the hairs on the back of his neck had raised at the ominous silence. Since he had started coming by the house, there had always been sounds – music, laughter, a movie, the slightly crazed conversation of their mutual friends drifting through the windows like an audible welcome mat. Sometimes, the noise had threatened to deafen him and he would escape onto the patio, simply watching the white dots in the night sky, until his mind was empty and he would go back inside. Sometimes Honor joined him. Sometimes she didn't. She knew how much the noise got to him and she should know that the silence would terrify him. _

_He didn't knock before letting himself in, sure that he would find something worse than his imagination can prepare him for. The sight of Honor, sobbing on the coach in her terry cloth pajamas, almost broke him. He gathered her in his arms, quickly checking for any signs of injuries. Finding none, he cradled her head against his chest and made the soothing, nonsensical noises he would later make to their daughter. _

_When she had finished crying and washed away the remainder of her mascara, when he brought her a pot of her favourite Lady Grey tea, she finally told him. Josh had gathered up all his courage and told her that he had met someone, someone he loved and wanted to spend his life with and all that yada-yada Cosmo crap. He wanted to get a divorce, he said, and would allow her to start the proceedings. Salvage some of that all-important Huntzberger dignity in front of their friends and social circle. _

"_You know none of us will care that you're divorcing your husband because he's gay," Jess told her soothingly. _

"_My parents will," Honor sniffled. "A divorced daughter is only okay if I come back with all my dowry and a large divorce settlement to boot." _

"_So give your dad his goats back," Jess ventured, trying to elicit a smile. "I'm sure he'll be fine."_

_Honor smiled wanly. "He's going to be so angry. They're going to be so furious with me."_

"_Well, screw them," Jess said firmly. "You're a great person and if they can't see it, they can go play with lightning rods during thunder storms."_

"_You don't tell a Huntzberger to play with lightning rods during thunder storms, Jess, it just doesn't happen."_

"_It does when the Huntzberger in question is being a dick," Jess rebutted. _

_Honor looked at him through wet eyelashes. "And if the Huntzberger is being a silly girl who is more upset about her parents' disapproval than the dissolution of her marriage?"_

"_Then you tell her she's perfect and if her parents can't see it, it's their problem and not hers," Jess said softly. _

_The kiss was unexpected, but unsurprisingly wonderful. He twined his hands through her hair, crushing her body against his, unwilling to let her go. And then he did. "Honor," he said, touching his lips to her forehead, "you are still married. This is still cheating, in the eyes of both God and Philadelphia family law."_

"_I don't care," Honor murmured. _

_It took all his willpower. "Tomorrow, you might."_

"_Jess, I've wanted to kiss you since I first met you."_

"_Before or after you called me a pretentious prick?"_

"_Both. How can a girl resist a guy who will go cross-country to convince his ex-girlfriend to go back to college because he once broke her heart and he would do anything to make good?" _

"_With a flourish and flair?" Jess suggested. _

_Honor smiled tenderly. "Jess, everybody else can see what good qualities you have. Why can't you see that yourself and realise that more girls than you know are in love with you?"_

"_Good question. You should ask yourself that, just without the part of the girls." Jess furrowed his brow. "Although you would totally rock Spring Break."_

"_I did," Honor confessed in a whisper. "I have pictures, too."_

"_Tease."_

"_Want me to show you?"_

"_More than anything. And once you're divorced and a free woman, I'll let you."_

"_We're just wasting time, Jess, you know that we'll wind up together eventually anyway. Why wait until the divorce goes through?" _

"_To give you an incentive to pull through," Jess replied, then gave her a serious look that made her heart melt. "If we're going to do this, I want to do it right. I'm not starting a relationship with someone who is still in a relationship with someone else."_

_Honor smiled. "If you insist."_

_He did and shortly after Christmas, she had announced to her family that she was planning to divorce Josh. No, that the divorce had actually gone through, that she knew they would be disappointed, but that she needed their support as parents and no amount of yelling at her would (a) erase her signature on the divorce papers or (b) amend the situation. Mitchum and Shira had been too surprised to quibble. At first. Their continued toxicity made it easy for Honor to hide from them, easy to disguise the fact that she was pregnant. __JessJess _

"... custody of her."

The last three words snaps Jess from his reverie. "What?"

"I'm going to petition the court for custody of the child," Logan said, enunciating his words as though Jess was hard of hearing. "You're in no way capable of supporting and providing for the child."

_Teenage Jess would have floored this smug Ken doll by now with a snide comment and a well-aimed punch_, Jess reflected. _And he's kicking my ass through the time-space continuum for failing to do so. _

"Luckily, we're no longer doing Santa's dry cleaning, but that doesn't mean that he no longer stops by with unexpected packages," Lorelai chirped as she breezed into the living room. She froze, the brightly wrapped parcels in her hands forgotten, as she glances at the three faces and feels the chill of their conversation. With something like motherly intuition, fuelled by the fact that Luke was currently next door holding court at a tea party for kittens, she guessed what the main topic of discussion was. True, it didn't take much for Luke to make an adorable idiot out of himself trying to make his nephew's daughter happy. But his timing and choice of activity, drinking cups of air with Babette's cats on Christmas Day, seemed to suggest a desire to keep Lily away from a potentially explosive situation rather than the desire to see her giggle. Lorelai wondered how she could gauge the situation. "So, is everybody staying for dinner?"

"Of course, Mom," Rory said, a little too quickly. "It'll be nice, won't it?"

"Not unless Santa brought a Christmas miracle in one of these boxes," Lorelai mutters. Jess, who is the only one close enough to hear her, gives her a look of commiseration. "We'll be here."

"Would be rude to turn down the invitation," Logan said, a modicum of charm in his voice and nothing but steel in his eyes. "Besides, it'll be nice to meet my niece."

"Okay. Just remember that there's no slapping at the table," Lorelai replied.

xxxxxxxxxx

There had been no slapping at the table. Nor kicking, biting or hair-pulling. In many ways, Rory reflected as she switched off the light and curled into her bed, it would have been better if there was. The unspoken questions, the silent wondering, had had a dampening effect on the dinner - much like a thunderstorm during the Macy's parade. Rory snorted at herself. _Original thought, that one. You could tell why I was such a success as a journalist. _She turned over in her bed, thumping the pillow restlessly, her mind still running through careful mathematical calculations. Lily was born in August, a few weeks after Rory had graduated. Honor had died within days and Logan only knew about her death after the fact, only knew about the drunken high school seniors because the story had been printed in a society gossip magazine as part of a feature on the tragic consequences of teenage drinking. (Rory had seen the feature and was horrified; it personified the type of sentimental nothing-much journalism she loathed.) However, Lorelai's sudden entry in the house and the subsequent dinner, with the enforced politeness and quiet "pass the potatoes, please" had left Logan no space to ask the question he most wanted to ask.

Why didn't the Huntzbergers know about Honor's daughter until now?

Rory sighed, thinking that she might had gotten the answer to that one. And that she would not be the one to connect the dots for Logan.

Logan.

She sighed again.

He had been in so much pain today, she thought. It must have felt like he was losing her all over again, realising that she had a daughter that he hadn't met. His scrutiny of her at the table, his close observation of how she held her knife and fork and how she pronounced her words, could have been misconstrued by others. She suspected Jess saw it as an expression of Huntzberger arrogance. But she knew Logan, she knew it was nothing like that. Logan wasn't studying her for signs of neglect or proof that Jess was an unfit parent.

He was watching his older sister come to life again.


End file.
